My Eyes, My Laugh, My Cry
by Llamas Are Sexy
Summary: oneshot: Hotaru's eyes, her laugh, and her cry all have one thing in common...a darkness. PersonaxHotaru. Warning: Implied rape.


Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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**My Eyes, My Laugh, My Cry

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Everyone thought he would go after Natsume. Lord knows, he'd been around him since the dawn of time. Or maybe even Mikan. Natsume loved her. She was Bait. He could've easily taken her. But no, it was me. Never was it about Natsume, or Mikan. Not even Ruka. For some reason, it was about me. No one knows. I never talk. It's a secret of some sorts. That is to say, he commands that it be.

You're beautiful, but stupid and look at me when I'm talking to you, he says.

My eyes are wandering around and he doesn't like it. He takes it as a sign of fear, not looking at him in the eye. I'm not afraid. I stopped being afraid. I'm not even sure I ever as. I have no recollection of that emotion ever being in my body. He surprises me sometimes. Some days he is sweet, and he'll be a real gentleman, and then later that day, I'll do something that I have no remembrance of doing and he'll come after me. Like he always did. Like his routine.

His hands attack my body, like the savage things they are. Like it's a need to satisfy, and here I am. Right where he wants me. I was barely eleven when he first came to me like that. Approaching me in that dark, mysterious manner that he has. I stared at him, demanding what he wanted without uttering a single word. My eyes, stern, and calm, yet cold. That damn mask of his. Hiding his face. He smirked, and then he pounced, and I didn't even have a chance.

I am always with him, whether I want to be or not. I have no choice. It's not my choice. It's his. There are those certain times when I'll ask him why he came after me, instead of Natsume. Because, him being the way he is, you couldn't really perceive his sexual orientation until he comes after you. Going after Natsume all those years, I certainly thought that I was out of his preference.

I ask him, Why did you come for me?

He says, Because you have the eyes.

So many people have eyes like mine, and he came after me. I intrigued him to no end. He proves that to me every night. My eyes, are not so different. Maybe a little bit colder than normal, or normal for me. Maybe a little bit more curious. Maybe just a little but too like everyone else's that they stood out.

He should've gone after Natsume, but he came after me. I was nothing to Natsume. The crap he spewed to me at first about how I was affiliated with him made me laugh. It stills does. I was nothing to Natsume. Just a girl. His classmate. The one with the eyes...

So many years have passed, so how old am I? Supposedly a genius and I don't know my own age. This dilemma makes me laugh and cry.

He makes me laugh. And cry. Mostly cry.

So many tears.

He never gets tired. I do. I don't get a choice, so it's better if I keep my mouth closed and my eyes shut. Pretend I'm not there, pretend I'm with Mikan, or in my lab, or looking deeply into Ruka's sea blue eyes...

He makes me cry if I pretend everything is ok. If I close my eyes. He demands my attention, that my eyes are on him at all times. His pale skin, his black silky hair, his notorious eyes...

And then he leaves me alone, and I cry. And laugh. And Cry. And Laugh, and laugh, and laugh and laugh because I have nothing else to do. And there is nothing that I can say to make my situation any different.

Took away my guns, took away my dignity, but not my pride. I still have some of that. But it's fading away, slowly but surely; hence the crying...

And then he comes back, and our routine starts all over again.

I used to have a routine. It involved shooting Mikan with a gun whenever she decided it was a good idea to try and make contact with me, which was often, so my aim got pretty good. But Mikan was slow, and Persona is fast, which is how he succeeded in getting me.

They ask whats wrong, why am I different, what ails me, what makes me sad, and I tell them that I hate long coats. The give me strange faces meaning they don't understand, which is fine because I don't understand myself. But really I do. I just can't say. I'll start laughing. Or crying. I don't know. I don't have control over those anymore.

And then his eyes are on me, and I look back, just wondering why it couldn't have been him. He knows, and yet he doesn't make a move. So I hate him, and I hate everyone then.

Why don't you tell them, he says. I look into his crimson eyes.

Why don't you tell them, I say.

It's not my decision to make, he says. My mouth twitches. I want to laugh the laugh that Persona makes me laugh.

Nor is it mine, I say and then I leave, and come to him, and his hands attack me. He worries that I will speak, that I will try to go away. I won't. I know better. It would start an uproar inside his mind, and then we'd all be doomed, and it'd be all my fault.

Everyday his hands attack my body. I do nothing. He makes me laugh.

Everyday I laugh.

Every night I cry.


End file.
